Local Pregnant Woman Takes Destiny Into her Own Hands
by HecateA
Summary: Ginny knows how to make precisely one thing, so if her husband is going to be late so be it. Oneshot. Written for the House Competition, Round 5 Drabble.


**Author's Note: ** It's this time of the semester so yeah, that's right, I can't do anything other than write unadulterated _fluff. _ Thank you to Aya and Crissie for having a look and betaing!

**Disclaimer: **The following characters belong to J.K. Rowling, and this story derives from her original works, storylines, and world. Please do not sue me, I can barely pay tuition.

**Dedication: **For my Mama Bird who is _**going to absolutely kill it this exam season!**_

**Warnings: **NA

* * *

**House:** Hufflepuff

**Role:** Second Year, Stand-In

**Category:** Round 5, Drabble

**Prompt:** [Food] Biscuits/cookies

**Word Count:** 714

**Stacked with: **Hogwarts House Cup; MC4; Spring Bingo; Ship Wars

**Individual Challenge(s): **Gryffindor MC (x2); Seeds; Yellow Ribbon; Yellow Ribbon Redux; Click Bait It

_**Shipping War**_

**Ship (Team):** Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley (Gold Lion)

**List (Prompt):** Big List (Baked Goods)

_**Spring Bingo entry information:**_

**Space Address: **5A

**Prompt: **Sweet

* * *

**Local Pregnant Woman Takes Destiny Into her Own Hands **

If Ginny got her hands on the fucker smuggling dragon eggs into the country and keeping her husband working late, she would murder him herself—forget the Aurors. And if her husband himself didn't come home soon; Ginny was going to eat him the minute he came through the door.

They had little to no food in the house, which was absolutely their fault for not grocery shopping in weeks. This did not negate the fact that she was hungry. Starving. So was the fetus—which she had to stop calling 'it' since they were a full baby now, what with this process being eight months down the line and all. Besides, she'd named them too.

Merlin, she was hungry.

The house was basically depleted—cupboards: empty. Fridge: empty. Pantry: _desolate. _There were a handful of ingredients here and there, but Ginny had no idea how to transform them into a meal that wouldn't trigger a quite literal tête-à-tête with the toilet. Not that she had many recipes in her back pocket anyways—Harry did the cooking. Ginny's go-to was toast, but they had no bread. There wasn't even any jam or peanut butter for her to grab a spoon and dig into.

Harry was supposed to bring groceries home, but he was two hours late, so Ginny imagined that they'd end up ordering in, so she couldn't call or pick up anything _now, _because he could come back anytime. What kind of wife would she be then?

She wasn't sure she was above eating the half-stick of butter in the fridge, anymore. She was sizing up the last two eggs in the fridge and seriously considering facing her food aversions and frying them up… and then it hit her. Baking. She could _bake _the eggs, and then the smell wouldn't sucker-punch her in the gut.

To be clear, she couldn't bake much. But she could bake one thing because that had seemed like an important thing to learn before leaving home, and Mum had been more than happy to show her, and that thing was chocolate chip cookies. Oh, _yes. _

She scrambled through the kitchen, collecting tablespoons and teaspoons and cups of ingredients. Every new find made her heart beat faster as she got one step closer to completing her list. It also got scarier and scarier because with every step forwards, the potential that this recipe would fall through became more and more… devastating.

She could have cried once she'd scavenged all her supplies. She rubbed circles over the baby bump as she mixed up the batter, and at least twice the baby kicked her hand.

"Such good aim," she told the baby. "You're going to be a Chaser, aren't you? Your father says you're a Keeper, but I don't buy it. It's possibly a preliminary Dad joke."

She did dishes as she waited for both batches to be done, then dropped the cookie sheets on top of the stove. She could only wait so long for them to cool before her self-control broke and she stood there, picking them up one by one, popping them into her mouth. At some point she thought that a glass of milk would be a nice addition, but the lizard part of her brain, and possibly the baby itself said: _No. Eat._

When she heard the fireplace flare up, signaling Harry's return from the ministry, she didn't look back.

"I am so sorry, but we finally got them and I will never be late again," Harry said.

She looked over her shoulder, mouth full of cookie, and Harry laughed.

"I didn't realise how late I was."

"This is the only thing I could make," Ginny explained, mouth still full.

"You have melted chocolate on your cheek."

"Bite me, Potter."

Harry laughed and crossed the kitchen as she turned back to her cookies. He wrapped his arms around her, kissed her cheek, and rested his chin on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to abandon you," he said, reaching for a cookie.

Ginny slapped his hand away.

"Not yours—Jamie and I managed just fine without you," she said protectively.

"Jamie?" Harry asked.

"I've made an executive decision. That's your punishment for being late—loss of naming privileges," Ginny said. She popped a cookie into her mouth, leaving her husband speechless.


End file.
